Shadow Hearts
by Emerald Princess of Vernea
Summary: A novelisation of Shadow Hearts, the first game of the Shadow Hearts series created by Sacnoth, and sequel to Koudelka.
1. Prologue

_**DISCLAIMER**_

_Grace Barton does not own Shadow Hearts and is not associated with it or its creators in any way. This is a novelisation of the game and Grace only lays claim to the written form and original scenes and dialogue that do not appear in the game. Everything else is copyrighted to Sacnoth, the creators of Shadow Hearts._

* * *

**Shadow Hearts [1****st**** Instalment]**

**Grace Barton**

**Prologue**

_Rouen, France – 1913_

Father Morris Elliot staggered through the cobblestone alley. To his left was the _Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Rouen_, or the Rouen Cathedral, as it was also known. The walls of the church seemed to fade into shadow as he moved, but it was not due to failing eyesight. His eyesight was as strong it had been in his youth; time and age had not weakened it. There was a different reason why his eyesight was failing him. A reason linked to the pounding in his head, and why his tongue felt thick and his throat felt clogged with blood. It did not take a priest to figure out what was wrong with him.

He was dying.

His foot stumbled against a cobblestone. The elderly priest lurched forward, splatting his hand against the church wall to keep himself from falling.

What he saw made his throat tighten.

His right leg was mangled. The fabric of his trousers was torn to shreds and stained with his blood. A combination of teeth and claw marks scarred his aging skin, leaving blood to ooze out of the wounds. His left leg was no better, though it was a little more intact. When his hand slipped from the wall, it left a bloody palm-print behind.

Gathering his strength, the priest forced himself to take a step forward. A shooting pain shot up his leg and into his chest, causing him to fall to his knees. He threw up. His vomit was black and grainy.

Blood…

Behind him, he heard a gentle _tap._ The priest stiffened and turned his head.

Twenty feet behind, a figure stood in the shadows of the church. His face could not be seen except for his eyes—piercing blue eyes that stared at him with such an icy calm it was hard to believe they belonged to a human.

_Was he even human?_

The clouds above parted. A sliver of moonlight slipped into the alley, highlighting the man's tall, slender frame. His face would have been kind if it were not the cruel smile on his lips, causing the wrinkles on his face to deepen and made the shadows on his face seem larger. In his hand he held an oak cane with a golden globe, polished to a beautiful shine. Father Elliot could see his reflection clearly in the polished surface, his features enhanced by the light of the moon.

He looked as pale as death.

The man took a step forward, his cane tapping against the ground. "Well, well, Father Elliot," he said. His accent was British. "You did not put up much of a fight, after all." Lifting his cane, he polished the globe with a cloth. "Seems you're not quite the exorcist the Vatican makes you out to be, hmm?"

Father Morris did not reply. He just stared.

The man finished polishing his cane and lowered it back to the ground. "But it is no matter. It was not your intention to defeat me, was it? You know you do not have that strength." He chuckled. "After all, isn't that why you came here?"

"How…" Father Elliot gasped, choking out the words through the blood in his mouth. "How much do you know?"

"Oh, just about everything," the man replied. "And more…"

Something moved in the shadows behind him. When he saw it, Father Elliot flinched and tried to stand. Another pain in his side brought him back onto his knees. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. He knew he would not be able to stand again.

"I also know," the man continued, "that the only reason you stayed behind was to give _her_ a chance to escape."

He seemed oblivious to the priest's pain and efforts, and paced the width of the alley in steady steps, swinging his cane back and forth. Father Elliot made one last attempt to stand before sinking back to the ground. He gazed up at the man, and his lip trembled.

_Alice…_

"You will not have her," he said. "I won't let you!"

The man stopped. He slammed the butt of his cane onto the ground, making the priest flinch. He turned his face towards him, and Father Elliot felt his soul shrivel underneath that cold gaze.

"As far as I'm concerned, you've already given her to me," he said. "She has escaped for now, but my little bird will soon find her way into her cage. With you dead, there is nobody left to protect her. She will be all alone, and will walk right into my clutches. So you can rest peacefully, my dear priest. You have completed your task."

In the shadows he heard a growl. Gathering the last of his strength, Father Elliot rose to his feet long enough to take another few steps towards the edge of the alley. He felt the man's eyes watching him, making no move to stop him.

Before he could reach the edge, his strength gave out. He slid to his knees.

_Alice… Forgive me…_

The growling noise came again, this time louder. Something grabbed hold of his legs and yanked him back. Father Elliot fell onto the floor. The growl behind him turned into laughter, as sharp nails dug their way into his skin, tearing through his flesh. The priest gritted his teeth as pain wracked his body. Whatever was holding him then flipped him over onto his back. Claws dug into his belly, sending a fresh wave of pain and nausea through his body. Father Elliot choked back a scream, his fingers clutching the stones.

Not breaking his pace, the man came to stand over him. He placed the butt of the cane against the priest's chest. Folding his hands over the globe, he pressed down until the priest began to gasp and writhe.

"Why are you doing this?" Father Elliot managed to say.

The man's expression did not change. "You already know the answer to that," he answered. "But it is no longer your concern. Go to your rest, Father Elliot. Know that your death is but the first step on the road to change for this world. The next… lies with your daughter."

He turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows.

The growling resumed. Father Elliot turned his eyes to the sky, where the moon was just beginning to slip back behind the clouds. For the first time tears filled his eyes. Father Elliot took a breath. He held it within him.

A dark shadow rose above him. Rather than look at it, Father Elliot closed his eyes. He did not want that sight to be his last. Instead he conjured up the image of his daughter, his beautiful daughter, who had fled at his urging when the attack began. He was thankful she had been spared this sight.

_Alice… I won't let them make you their key… Be safe… Please…_

The growl ascended into a roar.

Then everything went black.

The body of Father Elliot was found the next morning. It caused terrible commotion for the otherwise quiet town. Despite the police's attempts to keep the details of the murder under wraps, some journalists managed to get photos of the body before it was taken away. The headlines of the papers that day told of a body that was brutally savaged, torn into pieces as though by a beast. And that his daughter, Alice Elliot, was missing…

* * *

_**A Note from the Authoress**_

_Welcome to my novelisation of Shadow Hearts! Like with my novelisation of Koudelka, this novelisation is different to my others in that I am not including the original game script. This is my great experiment, to see if I can stick to character without use of the game script. I use the script for research purposes only, and to ensure I stay on track. I hope you enjoy it._


	2. Chapter 1

**Shadow Hearts [1****st**** Instalment]**

**Grace Barton**

**Chapter 01**

The year was 1913. In just less than a year, the world would change as it became embroiled in a war that would encompass almost every country on the planet.

The Great War.

For now, the fires of war were only kindling. The event that would ignite the flames had yet to pass. For now, peace remained in the world.

In the Fengtian providence (later known as Liaoning) of South Manchuria in northeast China, a train was on the move. It was unusual to have a train travelling at such a late hour, but this was no ordinary train. The train was the property of the Japanese Army, who had taken control of Fengtian and the other regions of Manchuria.

The train was carrying a very special cargo under the heavy protection of the Japanese Army. They kept their cargo under lock and key in the foremost car, and under heavy guard. In order to mask their cargo's presence and not raise suspicions, the army had also allowed civilians to board the train.

This was their fatal mistake.

Near the rear of the train, a young Chinese waitress was serving drinks to the passengers. She approached one of the tables where an elderly man was sitting. His complexion told her at once that he was foreign, probably from some part of Europe. His white hair was tucked neatly behind an immaculately kept top-hat, and his blue eyes were turned to the window, watching the plains go by.

Tapping the gentleman on the shoulder to draw his attention, she gestured to the tray of drinks on offer. The man chose a blend of herbal tea leaves—an expensive blend. Making it up, the woman held it out.

"Thank you," the man replied, giving her a warm smile.

_Ah, so he's from England,_ the waitress thought, recognising the accent.

She waited while the English gentleman sampled the cup. Finding it to his liking, the man smiled and nodded. He paid her, giving her a generous tip. The woman bowed low and moved on.

Once she was gone, the man leant back in his chair. He brought the cup to his lips. Before drinking, he took a moment to inhale its scent. He took another sip. He held it for a moment, taking in its sweet flavour, and then swallowed.

_Perfect,_ he thought.

Looking out of the window, he saw that the train was riding alongside a forest. It was time. The man drained his cup, leaving only the tealeaves behind. He dabbed at his lips with a napkin and tucked it under his cup. Then, picking up his cane, he rose to his feet and began to make his way down the aisle.

There were only a few civilians in this car. Most were old people, but there were a few younger people around. There was even a homeless youth asleep on one of the chairs, covered by a weathered old coat.

As he walked down the aisle the man swung his cane, letting the butt sweep against the floor. An elderly lady was making her way towards him, and he stepped aside. As she passed he tipped his had to her, offering her a warm smile. He then moved on towards the other end of the car and slipped through the door, closing it behind him.

He paid no attention to the homeless man, who opened his eyes as the door closed.

* * *

Major Tsugi checked his watch. It was gone 2300. The major sighed. It was still a long way to Fengtian.

Around him, his soldiers were growing restless. More than one of them was yawning. The major understood how they felt and suppressed a yawn of his own. There would be no sleep tonight. Not until their mission was complete.

One of his subordinates, a young soldier new to the army, left his post and came over to him. "Major Tsugi," he said in a quiet voice, "what's this all about? Why do we have to escort that girl to Japan?"

His eyes drifted to the front of the car. The major looked as well. Sitting quietly at one of the chairs was their 'guest', an English girl by the name of Alice Elliot. It was not hard to tell that she was European. Her skin was smooth and pale, with her platinum-blonde hair tied into a braid at the back of her head. Her face was relaxed, her mouth upturned into a serene smile as she looked out of the window into the night. She sat with grace and poise, knees folded to the side. There was no doubt that she was a priest's daughter, even without the crucifix around her neck. Her clothing was most unusual, with a skirt that was far too short for a lady, in the major's opinion.

The major gave her a scrutinising look. She was an odd one, and it was more than just being from the West. Even though she was a prisoner she did not cry or complain, carrying herself with the dignity with which she was obviously raised. The major wondered if this was what was meant by the British 'stiff upper lip'.

"I have no idea," he confessed, turning away from the girl. "All our orders say is that we're to escort her safely to the capital." He sighed again and ran a hand along his bald scalp; an old habit from days long gone.

"I wish I knew what the bosses were thinking," he continued. "What do they want with an _English_ girl? A priest's daughter, no less! I always thought Christian priests weren't allowed to marry!"

"Maybe she's a spy," the younger soldier offered.

The major shook his head. Folding his hands behind him, he paced the width of the car. "A girl like that? I doubt it. She may be foreign, but she does not seem the type to be a spy." He stopped and rubbed his chin. "Then again… she didn't put up much of a resistance when we captured her at Changchun…" He frowned, troubled, and his gaze drifted back to the girl.

* * *

Outside the car where Alice Elliot was being held, two soldiers were standing guard. Like their comrades inside, these two were also bored. One of them groaned and rubbed his shoulder, where hours of standing still holding his rifle was beginning to take its toll.

At the other end of the car the door opened and a man wearing a top hat and cane walked in. The two soldiers woke up at once and raised their rifles.

"Halt!" one of them ordered. "This car is off-limits! Turn around and go back to your assigned seat!"

The man ignored him and kept on walking. When he reached the middle of the car he stopped and tipped his hat in greeting.

"I do apologise," he said. "But I do believe you are in my way."

He began to walk again. The soldiers were about to open fire when a pale shadow flew out from behind the man and rushed towards them. It zipped past the nearest soldier, who let out an agonised scream and then dropped to the floor.

The other soldier almost dropped his gun in shock. He looked down at the body of his companion, who lay dismembered on the ground in a pool of his own blood. The soldier's jaw went slack and then began to quiver in fear. He raised his eyes to the stranger, who looked back at him with a gentle smile on his face. He continued to walk towards him.

A fear like nothing he had ever felt before took hold of the soldier. His hands shook, and his rifle slipped from his hands. The shadow that killed his companion swirled around the approaching stranger and then rushed out again. The soldier let out a shriek as it dived on him. He caught a glimpse of dark flesh and fangs. Something then grabbed his head and gave it a sharp twist. There was a _crack_ as his neck was snapped, and the soldier's head flopped to one side.

When the shadow released him, the soldier fell onto the floor alongside his comrade. The shadow returned to its master, hovering over his shoulder. The man did not even glance at the corpses as he stepped over them and entered the final car.

As he walked inside, Major Tsugi and his men spun around to face him. "Who are you!?" the major demanded.

The man came to a stop. Lifting his hat he bowed low in an almost theatrical manner. At this gesture, the shadow creature leapt out again and rushed forward in eagerness. In a matter of seconds it had felled the slowest of the guards, letting their bodies drop onto the floor. Those who reacted faster opened fire, but the bullets bounced off the creature's body as it zipped back and forth through the air, deflecting those bullets that would have hit its master. When the soldiers paused to reload, the creature resumed its attack, and soon the air was thick with the stench of blood.

Major Tsugi did not know what to do. He could only watch in horror as one by one his men were slaughtered by the shadowy beast. The creature seemed invincible, protected by a shield that nothing could penetrate. It protected its master with such speed and efficiency that all their attempts to attack had failed.

He heard a creak behind him and knew that the English girl had risen out of her seat. The major glanced back at her and caught a glimpse of recognisable fear in her eyes. He looked back at the man. His eyes were fixed on the girl. Was it her he was after?

Remembering his orders to deliver the girl to Japan safely, Major Tsugi drew out his gun. "Die!" he shouted, and opened fire.

His shots were wild and poorly-aimed. The few bullets that did hit their mark were blocked by the warlock's shadow-creature. Soon the major ran out of bullets but still he kept on firing, without even noticing that he had run out of ammo.

Once the major's ammo had run out, the shadow-creature moved in for the kill. Alice covered her mouth to stop a scream as the major was slaughtered in front of her. His bloody corpse dropped at her feet. Soon a puddle of blood began to form around his head, oozing from a slash in his throat that spread from ear to ear.

Looking down at the body, Alice began to tremble. She then looked up at the man, who was walking towards her.

"You…!" she exclaimed.

"Yes," replied the warlock, tipping his hat to her. "Roger Bacon. I am honoured that you remember me, Alice Elliot!"

Alice began to back away. The shadow-creature flew up beside her and hovered in front of her face. Alice shrieked when she saw it and fell back against the chair.

The man called Roger Bacon stepped towards her. Still smiling, he held out his hand. "The game is over. Come along now, Sister."

He reached out to take her hand. Then the smile vanished from his face as he turned from her to face the stranger who had just entered the car. Bacon recognised him as the homeless youth who had been asleep in the other car. Bacon's brows rose in half-surprise.

"Ah, so we have a new actor in our play," he remarked. The smile returned. "Unfortunately our cast list is already full, so I'm afraid your role must end here."

He clicked his fingers. The shadow-creature left Alice and flew towards the youth. Alice shrieked again and covered her eyes, unable to watch any more bloodshed. She heard the creature screech, and then it fell silent.

When Alice lowered her hands, she expected to see the youth sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. So she was surprised to see that he was still standing, his arm outstretched and a sly smile on his face.

Her gaze drifted to his arm. In his hand he held the shadow-creature, holding it by its head. Alice's eyes widened. He had snatched the monster out of the air!

The shadows around the creature faded to reveal its true form. It was little more than an imp, a Windshear to be exact. It kicked and struggled, screeching in fury. The youth ignored its cries and held it out as though he was offering it to Bacon.

Then he began to squeeze.

When the monster realised what was happening, its struggles increased. Its claws slashed against the youth's arm, cutting through his clothes and drawing blood. The youth continued to ignore it, and continued to squeeze.

There was a _crunch_. The monster let out one final screech before its head was crushed in the youth's grasp. Its body fell limp. The youth opened his fist, letting the body drop to the floor. Blood dripped from the youth's fingers, splashing over the body.

Throughout it all, Bacon's face was impassive. "An impressive show of strength," he praised. "Though I have to say I am a little sore that you killed my little friend. He has been of great use to me."

The youth said nothing, and replied only by raising his fists. Bacon's smile widened just a little. He stepped forward, accepting the challenge.

Alice saw her chance. With the warlock's attention on the youth, she used this moment to try to slip away. She did not even make it a step before Bacon turned sharply and snatched her hand.

"Sorry," he apologised, "but you cannot leave just yet."

He pulled her towards him. Alice struggled, but he placed his hand over her eyes and murmured soft, strange words. A blue light glowed beneath his palm. Alice froze and then sagged as sleep overcame her. Bacon caught her as she slumped and hoisted her onto his shoulder.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention back to the youth. "Hand over the girl, old man," the youth warned.

Bacon almost chuckled. "I don't think so," he replied. "She is the 'key'. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment to keep in Shanghai."

He lifted his hand and held it high. A wave of dark purple energy began to ripple around his fingers and then shot up towards the roof. An explosion rocked the train. The car gave a lurch as it heaved one way and then the other, almost toppling over the tracks. A shockwave ripped through the inside of the car, throwing chairs and pulling tables out of their bolts.

The youth threw up his arms and braced himself for the blow. The shockwave hit, and he was almost blown off his feet. He began to slide back and his coat whipped around him. The youth grit his teeth and leaned into the wind, continuing to hold his ground.

After a few moments the shockwave passed. The youth lowered his arms and looked around him. Aside from himself and the bodies of the Japanese soldiers, the car was empty. He looked up at the roof, where a gaping hole marked the spot where the warlock had sent his magic.

"Guess he went up there," the youth realised.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a set of knuckledusters. He slipped them on, pushing them right back to his knuckles. Then he crouched down low, fixed his gaze on the ceiling, and jumped.

* * *

Bacon ran along the roof of the train. The girl, Alice Elliot, was slung over his shoulder. Deep under his spell, she did not wake at all. Now he had only to deliver her to her proper destination, and everything would be in place.

There came the sound of an explosion behind him, and Bacon stopped. Turning back he saw that another hole had been blasted through the roof of the train. Out of that hole came the youth, landing on the roof behind him. In answer to Bacon's questioning stare, he raised his fists.

"That's as far as you go, old man," he said.

Bacon had to admit that he was impressed. It was not any ordinary person who could punch a hole through solid metal. _This one's no ordinary man,_ he thought.

"I have to give you points for brute force," he said aloud, "unfortunately I have to deduct you points for being a persistent rat. Very well, then. If you insist on getting in the way, I shall end your role myself!"

He lowered his arm. The girl slipped from his shoulder and fell onto the floor. The movement of the train caused her to slide, but at a quick gesture from Bacon a light flashed over her and then held her in place. Bacon stepped over his sleeping prize and stepped forward to face the youth.

"Normally I would ask your name," the warlock said as he spread his arms. A dark light began to flicker between his fingers. "However I am in a hurry, so we will have to forego introductory etiquette. Let us begin, shall we?"

He thrust his arms forward. The light between his hands intensified and shot forward in a single beam. The youth jumped back as the light struck the spot where he had stood, almost blasting yet another hole in the roof. Landing on the car, the youth then ducked as another beam sailed over his head. Just as the beam came to an end the youth ran at Bacon and punched him hard in the face.

Startled by this unexpected retaliation, the warlock staggered. The youth raised a fist to strike again, but Bacon waved his hand and sent him flying back. He followed this with a stream of energy darts that fired from his fingertips. His opponent dodged and weaved between the darts. When that attack ended Bacon unleashed another volley from his other hand, keeping his opponent at bay.

Throughout each attack, Bacon analysed his movements. The youth moved with impressive speed and skill. He showed no fear against the dark magic that Bacon used—another impressive quality to have in a world where magic was shunned or discounted as myth.

After dodging the fourth wave of darts, the youth grew tired of dodging and rushed at Bacon. This time the warlock was prepared and drew up a magic shield around his body. When the youth struck his fist struck the shield, stopping several inches from Bacon's face. Undaunted, the youth punched it again, and then again. His face contorted into an expression of rage as he began to deliver blow after blow.

Bacon could barely keep the amused smile from his face. _He is trying to batter the shield with his bare fists!_ He began to laugh.

That laugh quickly ended as the youth pulled back his fist and slammed it into the shield, causing it to tremble. Bacon drew back in surprise as another punch rocked his shield.

"What!?" he cried.

The smile on the youth's face told Bacon he knew the shield was failing. Alarmed for the first time, Bacon channelled more energy into the shield. Despite his efforts the shield continued to waver. It was as though the energy was being siphoned from some unknown source.

_The youth, perhaps,_ he wondered.

It seemed impossible to believe. Yet the longer they fought, the more Bacon began to have suspicions about this young man. The strength he had was beyond normal human ability. He was not a warlock or a sage, or a priest calling upon the power of God… so what was he?

After delivering another set of hefty blows to the shield, the youth gave up his attack and leapt back. Bacon was about to draw up his energy for a counter-strike when the youth let out an anguished cry. His body was engulfed in a bright light, and a gust of wind swept across the train. Although protected by his shield, Bacon held the rim of his hat to keep it from blowing off his head.

When the light faded it was no longer the youth that was standing there. In his place was a monster. At least, that was Bacon's first thought. In fact it was a lesser demon—a being known as the 'Death Emperor'. Seeing the demon, Bacon at last remembered what had been bothering him ever since the battle began.

_He's a Harmonixer!_

Bacon suppressed a smile. It had been a very long time since he had last seen a Harmonixer.

_It must be fate…_ he thought.

The Death Emperor rose to his feet. His black wings unfolded and spread wide. They caught the wind blowing past, causing the leather to ruffle. The demon's skull-like face was turned towards him, the hollowed-out sockets black and empty. Yet in that darkness shone a tiny pinprick of light. It fixed on Bacon and then flared into life, filling the entire socket. The demon roared, shrieking up at the sky.

Bacon's mouth set into a grim line. This was turning out to be more interesting than he had anticipated. Yet as interesting as it was, this was not the place to face off against a Harmonixer. Playtime was over.

"So, it's fusion, is it?" he said aloud. He released his hat. "Very well, then. Let us end this, Harmonixer!"

He lowered his shield. As he expected, the demon saw his chance and surged forward. Bacon waited until the demon was within range and then swept his hand in an arc. An invisible force-strike hit the demon and sent him flying back. He hit the roof and rolled, stopping close to the edge.

Bacon spread his arms. Clouds of black and purple energy began to swirl around him, growing thicker and rising higher. They coalesced above him and then parted. In the gap, a bright white light shone out and illuminated the roof of the train. The Demon Emperor flinched beneath the light, shielding his eyes.

The light reflected in Bacon's eyes. _"Revelation!"_ he cried.

At his words the light grew even brighter. A series of symbols appeared within it and flashed in quick succession. Dark lights then fired out of the light and struck the roof. A few hit the roof, blasting straight through the metal and hitting the room below. Smoke began to billow upwards, escaping through the holes and windows.

One blast hit the Demon Emperor. The demon let out a shriek and crumpled onto the floor.

Bacon lowered his arms. Above him the clouds drew together, smothering the light, and then faded into nothing.

He looked over at the Harmonixer. When the blast hit, his control over the fusion was lost and he returned to his true form. Smoke rose from his coat and flesh, and he gasped in pain. He tried to stand, but ended up sinking onto his knees again.

"Impressive," Bacon remarked with utmost sincerity. "Not just anyone can withstand my dark magic. Could it be you have a natural affinity for the darkness?"

The youth did not answer. Bacon turned from him and walked back over to Alice. She had remained asleep throughout the battle, oblivious to all that went on around her. Bacon smiled as he moved to stand behind her and then turned back to face the young man.

"It is no matter," he continued. "As I have already said, I have to deliver this girl to her destination in Shanghai. I have no time to waste on a Harmonixer." He raised his hand and held it high. "It is over."

Dark lightning began to crackle around him. Bacon's eyes began to shine as he increased the power, and the lightning grew larger. The energy caused his clothes to ripple and the hair beneath his hat to rise. Bacon then lowered his arm and pointed at the young man. The lightning began to buzz as it was drawn inward, gathering at his fingertip. Bacon smiled. In one final blow he would blast the young man from the face of the earth.

Then he saw it. In the corner of his eye, a small light was flashing. Bacon ignored it, and concentrated on his attack.

A force-strike unlike anything Bacon had felt before hit him. It set his senses reeling and sent him staggering back. The lightning recoiled upon him and Bacon quickly cancelled out his attack, though it left his arm numb and painful. The warlock clutched at his numbed arm as he looked around in alarm, searching for the source of the strike.

"What in the—!?" he cried.

He looked down. At his feet, the body of Alice Elliot began to glow. Around her neck the crucifix that she wore was shining brightly, emitting a holy light. Though the light was only small it was brighter than the light Bacon had summoned, and infinitely more powerful.

The crucifix rose from her chest and hovered above the girl. It pulled Alice's body up along with it, lifting her into the air. Waves of holy light began to pulse up and down her body, drifting along her limbs and dripping off her feet and hands. Her face turned towards Bacon, and her pale skin glowed with life.

Bacon gazed into her sleeping face. _Such power…!_

He was so awed by the girl's power that he forgot all about the Harmonixer. As though waiting for this very moment the light suddenly parted to reveal the Harmonixer charging towards him. As he passed through the light it healed the wounds caused by the warlock's magic, revitalising him and giving him power.

The youth ducked underneath Alice's floating body. He lunged at Bacon and smashed his fist into the warlock's face.

There was a crunch as his fist tore through flesh and bone. Bacon's left eye was crushed, and blood began to spurt from the wound. It spilt over the youth's hands and fell onto the train. Bacon was so startled by this that he did not even cry out. Through his good eye he saw the youth's grinning face, and he was startled to see that his eyes were glowing red.

_Like a demon…_ Bacon thought.

The light surrounding Alice vanished. Her body dropped out of the air. The youth withdrew his hand from Bacon's face and caught her as she fell. He held her close as he jumped away from the injured Bacon. With one last look at the warlock, he jumped off the train.

Bacon put his hand to his face. At his touch the blood on his skin evaporated. Bone shifted back into place, and his flesh twisted and knitted back together. His crushed eye reformed, and he blinked. In a matter of seconds the warlock's face was back to how it was, with no mark of injury.

The warlock stood at the edge of the train and looked out into the forest. The last he saw of the youth was his coat vanishing into the forest and out of his sight. The youth disappeared into the darkness, taking his prey with him.

He could have followed them. Indeed, it occurred to Bacon that he _could_ go after them. He decided not to. The line of fate that had brought him, the girl, and the Harmonixer to this place had caught his interest, perhaps more so than the line of fate that was already in play.

It would be far more interesting, he decided, to see where this line would lead.


End file.
